


Meeting Needs

by orphan_account



Category: NASCAR RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:59:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a way for both of them to meet some needs. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting Needs

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to "Needs Met". You should read this one first, though. Tony's POV.

I hear three short knocks on my coach door, and I know who's standing outside. I could tell him to come in, but there's no reason. The knock is merely a formality. He steps into the coach, wearing a black t-shirt, ripped jeans, and black Chuck Taylors. I know he doesn't have on underwear... he's learned to come here wearing as few clothes as possible. Sometimes I'm surprised he even shows up with shoes and a shirt, but maybe he's decided it's a matter of "No shoes, no shirt, no service".

He closes the door behind him and immediately takes his shoes off. He leaves them beside the door and looks over at me. "Stewart," he says, as his hands curl around the hem of his shirt.

"Shrub," I say, nodding at him, silently giving him permission to remove his shirt.

He pulls the shirt over his head, folds it quickly but neatly, and sets it on the floor next to his sneakers. He stands with his hands at his sides, and I can see the denim of his jeans forming a tent. He's already turned on by this. He cocks his head to the side and looks at me questioningly, but his hands don't move from his sides. He knows better than to do anything without my saying so.

"Take them off," I say evenly.

I feel my cock twitch in anticipation. I reach down to adjust myself, and I hear him moan quietly. I smirk at him, and I can tell he wants to make a smart-ass remark, but he holds his tongue. He's learning, but I know it's killing him to remain quiet. He slowly unzips his jeans and pushes them to the floor, all the while keeping his eyes locked on mine. It's my turn to moan now, as his cock comes into view. Again, I can see in his eyes that he wants to say something, but he doesn't. He knows what the consequences would be.

He bends and picks up his jeans, folds them, and stacks them on top of his shirt.

He takes three steps towards me and then stops, waiting.

"What do you want, Shrub?" I ask him.

He looks at the floor. He opens his mouth a few times and then shuts it without saying anything.

For someone who's as mouthy as he is, he sure is having a problem verbalizing what he wants.

I laugh, and he flinches.

I step forward, so that we're touching, his cock rubbing against my still-clothed body. He shudders at the contact, but remains otherwise still.

I lean into him, my mouth directly over his ear and whisper, "Tell me Shrub. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need. That's the only way you're going to get it."

I can feel him shaking against me as he whispers, "You."

"Me?" I ask. "What about me?"

"You're what I want," he whispers.

"Be. more. specific." I say slowly, drawing out each word.

He shakes his head _no_ , but whispers, "I want to suck your cock." He stumbles over the words and blushes.

"Then get on your knees, bitch," I say forcefully, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him down.

I feel his hands trembling as he unzips my pants and pushes them down. He wraps both hands around my cock and strokes me, and I bite my lip to keep from groaning.

"I thought you said you wanted to suck my cock, not give me a hand job," I say roughly.

"Patience," he says, as he runs his thumb over the tip of my cock. He sticks his tongue out and licks the tip hesitantly, like a kid taking the first lick on a popsicle. This time I don't hold back, and I groan as he sucks my head into his warm, wet mouth. He makes a fist around the base of my cock, and strokes as he sucks. His fingers slide down to cup my balls, and he takes me deeper in his mouth. I grab at his hair and thrust myself down his throat. I feel him start to gag, and at first he tries to pull away, but I tighten my hold on his hair, and I feel him relax around me, taking me deep and letting his teeth just barely scrape along my cock. I hold his head still as I thrust myself down his throat and find my release. He continues to suck until I'm entirely spent. My hands fall to my sides as I stand panting, and he sits back on his heels, staring up at me. I look down and see that his cock is painfully hard, but he makes no move to take care of himself.

I smirk. "Get dressed and get the fuck out of here," I say harshly, as I walk to the kitchen to get a beer.

I hear him whimper behind me, but he doesn't move from his spot kneeling on the floor.

I laugh as I twist open my beer; it's so much fun to hear him beg.

"I'm sorry, Shrub, I didn't quite catch that. Was there something else?" I say in a teasing voice.

He blinks several times before he whispers, "I want you to fuck me."

"Oh, really?" I ask in the same teasing voice.

He's even quieter when he says, "I need you to fuck me."

I smirk at him again, but say nothing.

"Please, Tony... I need you to fuck me... please," he begs.

"Fine," I say. "Go to the bedroom and wait on me. Get the lube." He starts to crawl in the direction of the bedroom, and I smile because I've got him trained so well.

"Shrub?" I say, and he turns to look up at me. "You may walk to the bedroom."

He puts a shaky hand to his knee and pushes up from the floor, and walks slowly, eyes down, to the bedroom.

I shake my head and try to clear the thoughts in my head. I want this... need this... more than he knows. I have to maintain control. I can't let him see how he affects me. I can't let him know that I need this as much as he does, probably even more than he does. If he ever figures that out... I shudder.

He's not going to figure it out. I can't let him.

I walk slowly down the hall to the bedroom and find him just like I knew I would... laying spread-eagle on his back, tube of lube in his hand. He smiles a tiny smile when he I enter the bedroom, and I want to smile, too, but I can't. That would let him know he has power over me... so I smirk at him instead as I take the lube from his hand and squirt a generous amount in my own hand. I stroke my half-hard cock and watch as his eyes grow wide and his breath catches. He licks his lips in anticipation as I climb onto the bed and position myself between his legs. I run a finger over his tight opening and he bucks against it. _Oh yeah, he's ready,_ I think as I sink my finger into him and he moans my name. I thrust my finger in and out of him slowly at first, and then speed up, amazed as his panting matches to my thrusts. I remove my finger and he cries out in frustration, but he stills as I position my cock against him. I push into him slowly, just the tip of my cock, giving him time to adjust. He looks up at me with pleading eyes, and I swear I see tears forming as he says, "Please, Tony, just do it. Don't be gentle. Fuck me hard." That's all it takes, and I slam myself into him as he screams. I can't tell if he's screaming from pleasure or pain, but he's so warm and tight around me that I don't care. I thrust into him wildly, burying myself in his ass as his ambiguous, wordless screams turn to begging and pleading... "Harder... please! Do it fucking harder!" I feel my balls slapping against his ass as he yells, "Come on Stewart, I know you can do better than that!" and grabs at my arms. I drop my mouth to his shoulder and bite down hard as I feel his muscles clenching around me and I feel myself slipping over the edge. He follows me over seconds later, scraping his fingernails down my back and screaming my name.

I pull out of him and roll over onto my back, willing my breathing to return to normal. Beside me, he's still shaking as he runs a hand through his hair.

"You bit me," he says.

He's not mad about it; he's just stating a fact.

"Yeah, I did," I say. I know that he thinks I did it to mark him... the truth is that I was afraid of what would come out of my mouth in that moment of passion. I figured biting him would be easier than dealing with the consequences of anything I might have said.

I lean over and place a kiss over the bite mark, then get up from the bed and head to the bathroom to shower.

"Be gone by the time I'm done, Shrub," I say.

He nods and stands, and walks slowly down the hall to the living room where his clothes are neatly folded and waiting by the door. I hear the door open and shut as I turn on the hot water.

I step under the spray and sigh... I know exactly which three words would have come out of my mouth if I hadn't bitten him.


End file.
